My Snare, My Suffering
by Finnhart
Summary: A sane man may see things that will make him insane, but a man who is already insane who sees the same things... perhaps they will make him sane once more. **Alternate Universe**
1. The End of The World

**Author's Note:** I have never read the comics, so forgive me my mistakes. However, considering that Ledger took his Joker a step away from what could be considered comic-canon, I guess I have more leeway to accurately portray him. I also can't remember whether people refer to Det. Lt. Gordon as 'James' or 'Jim' so… I'll make my mind up later.

This is Joker/Batman/Rachael/Gordon-centric fic. These are the main characters, not the pairings haha.

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim.

**Warnings:** Swearing and violence. It's not really relevant to either Begins or Dark Knight, though I guess it should take place before, or perhaps during Knight… I dunno. This is a sort of Alternate Universe fic, drawing from several other movie inspirations but most notably 28 Days Later. The dimension hopping… well, that happens in a lot of movies. Let's see if I can pull it off, shall we?

**Summary:** _"This is a delicate, dangerous situation. We are no longer in Gotham, gentlemen – this is the end of the world." The Joker's web of insanity is spun by many spiders and the alternate world that he and his foes find themselves in is just one of them. AU_

* * *

**Chapter One**

**The End of The World**

'Fucking Bat!' he screeched out of the window, its glass shattered and long gone. 'You're scratching the paintwork!' He recoiled back into his seat and placed both of his hands on the wheel once more, cackling hysterically as he welcomed throbbing waves of adrenaline again and again, each pleasurably pounding through his innards. He gripped the wheel even tighter and shook his greasy, green head about, thoroughly enjoying himself. He twisted around in his seat to stare into the back, causing his fellow clown in the front passenger seat to yell and grip the dashboard as they swerved madly over both sides of the road. The Batman thundered on the roof above them, trying to break in using his barbs to cut the metal open.

'How are you doing, gorgeous?' The Joker shrieked. He grinned wildly as a shark would at Rachael Dawes, bound and gagged in the back of their stolen car, two more clowns on either side of her with fierce, long barreled guns trained to her temples. As they veered all over the road she was periodically thumped in the head by the cold guns. Tears streamed from her eyes and rolled over the silver tape covering her mouth. She squirmed and squeaked as Batman finally made an opening in the roof.

'Oh for fuck's sake,' shouted The Joker. 'You're spoiling all the fun!' He turned back to the road for a split second to make sure they were heading in the right direction. He rounded upon one of the clowns in the back and growled deeply. _'Get rid of him.'_ The clown nodded and seemingly on a half-asleep autopilot he lazily fired his gun several times into the roof. The thumping and snarling ceased. Rachael screamed into the thick tape.

'I don't want to play today, Batman,' The Joker mumbled to no one. 'My schedule–' (he made a tricky swerve into a small side road) _'– is. Fully. Booked…' _

As the car streaked towards the end of the narrow street a stocky, black police van rolled across to block their exit. The Joker snarled as he caught a glimpse of James Gordon's spectacles and moustache. He accelerated and pushed the car to its limit, fully intent on ploughing through the vehicle attempting to block their way. Policemen in heavy armour and helmets leapt from the van; one of them held a weapon that The Joker recognised immediately. Gordon had left the vehicle also and The Joker saw him raise his arm, preparing to give the order to fire.

'Oh shit–'

'_NO!'_ The Joker jumped a little at the hoarse bellow. Batman leapt from where he had apparently been riding stealthily on the roof and crashed down onto the bonnet, one hand steadying himself and the other outstretched before him. _'NO! Rachael is inside!'_

Gordon staggered and cut his order off. He and his men scattered as The Joker came ever closer, swerving all about and ricocheting off the buildings either side to shake The Batman from his nose. The Joker sneered, the threat of the bazooka gone thanks to both his unwilling passenger in the back and the limpet on his bonnet.

Using the barbs of his gauntlets Batman anchored himself into the metal, now facing The Joker who gnashed his browning teeth and wagged his tongue from behind the steering wheel. As he stared deeply into the steely eyes of his rival The Joker suddenly found himself blinking away the blindness from a brief flash of light, as though someone had set a camera off in front of his face. There it was again; he flinched. Once more and his blood turned into a cold sludge, his breath got lost on the way to his lungs and every thought, comprehensive or otherwise, left his mind. He clung to wheel desperately, bracing himself for something that he knew nobody around him could ever be prepared for.

In those split seconds The Batman saw the change in the madman. He saw the harsh lines of his face fall slack behind his flaking make-up and his dark, oaken eyes go blank. Time felt slow. He heard Gordon shouting for him to let go as the car tore towards the police van, Rachael screaming from behind the tape and the other clowns panicking. As the world around them was lost in a terrible, blinding light Batman had just enough time to see The Joker scrunch his eyes tightly shut and grimace in expectant fear.

* * *

When he had finally mustered the strength to crack a blacked out eyelid Batman expected to see fire and distress. He expected to see the van and the car upturned, each ablaze and with tyres and twisted metalwork scattered around the place. He expect to see lifeless bodies, he expected that Rachael might not have survived.

When he saw a blue sky clear of imposing buildings that had been constructed too close together, he wondered if he himself had died. Why wouldn't he have died? He had been on the bonnet of a car that had charged headlong at top speed into a police van. He turned his heavy head to the side, aware of tarmac beneath him. He saw the nondescript car that The Joker had been driving and Gordon's black van, but neither were smashed or smoldering. The front bumper of The Joker's vehicle sat mere inches from the armour-plated flank of the van. There were no signs of a high speed collision.

Batman sprang up from the ground and dashed towards the car, jumping over the bodies of the policemen. He ripped open the back door. One clown toppled out and landed in a spluttering heap on the road. Batman grabbed him by the nape of his thin neck and hurled him out of the way. Snarling, he leant into the back of the car and saw Rachael, coiled in on herself as best she could with her ankles and wrists bound and her eyes shut as though she was still bracing for the impact. Batman reached out and brushed his gloved fingertips softly over her quivering shoulder. She flinched and snapped her eyes open. Batman spoke without disguise, letting Bruce step in for the briefest of moments.

'Rachael, you're safe.'

He pulled her gently from the car, carefully peeling the tape from her mouth and slicing through her binds with one of his bat shaped blades. A low grunt wafted through the empty window frame of the driver's door. A shaking, purple-gloved hand stretched slowly out, strumming the air. Rachael gasped and clung to the front of Batman's suit, both of them carefully watching what the hand would do next. Eventually, after searching through the air like a blind snake it latched onto the door frame and the sounds of heavy, panicked gasping met their ears. Batman snorted. Inside he wondered if and almost wished that The Joker was dying of internal bleeding.

Tugging Rachael lightly by the sleeve he headed towards Gordon's van. The policemen he had seen on the floor a moment ago, all of whom he had assumed to be dead, were now coming around, muttering and confused. At that moment Gordon stumbled out from behind the van, clutching his head and looking entirely dazed. His glasses were hanging off one ear and his hair was more tousled than usual. He caught sight of Batman and Rachael and choked.

'Batman! Rachael! Thank God you're safe… thank God _we're_ safe – what the Hell happened? How did… how did this…' He stared around him, his brows knitted tightly together. 'This is… not Gotham…'

Batman, Rachael and the now conscious policemen followed Gordon's gaze towards a familiar clock tower looming over the water, a long, old building of a similar ilk to the tower stretching out to the left beyond the river bank. One of the policemen darted to the edge of the bridge, crying out.

'_London?' _

As he called out another sound from behind them caught their attention. The Joker had managed to extricate himself from his car and all but flopped out of the door, staggering awkwardly over the wide bridge road. He stumbled and fell, snarling as his head hit the ground with an awful crack. In an instant all five of the policemen as well as Gordon had their weapons pointing directly at The Joker and his three clowns. Batman had shoved Rachael behind him and stood in a defensive stance, ready to make a move. There was a momentary stalemate as The Joker hunched over, clutching his knees in an attempt to steady himself, panting and grunting like a mad, exhausted dog. Gordon's men shifted, uneasy by what they knew to be peculiar behaviour for the lunatic. Gordon spoke in a low, steady tone.

'Don't lose focus… he could be bluffing…'

They saw The Joker shake his green head frantically. He convulsed violently and lurched unseeingly to one side. Gordon's men all shouted as one for him to freeze; three leapt forward to apprehend the dazed clowns; the remaining two along with Gordon and Batman followed The Joker whilst Rachael was left shivering and bewildered beside the black van.

The Joker eventually met with the thick balustrade of the bridge, bumping his head against it before throwing himself on all fours and spilling the contents of his stomach. The two policemen turned away, complete repulsion on their faces, but Gordon and Batman watched in sinister fascination, as one would watch a cat messily eating a mouse. It was clear that The Joker had not eaten in a while and after a moment all that dribbled from his gaping, scarred mouth was bright, stinking bile. When he was done he rose unsteadily to his feet, glaring with hard eyes at everyone around him. His next outburst drew a jolt of shock from nearly everyone present.

'FUCK!' he screamed into the sky. His arms were rigid and his fingers curled into claws. He bared his teeth at the clouds. _'FUCK! FUCK! NO!'_ He bellowed and shrieked with what appeared to be every ounce of a hundred lunatics' energy, sounding every bit the wild, untamable beast that the world took him to be. He leapt around the road in a feral frenzy, stamping his feet and screeching at anyone and everything, pulling knives from his pockets and flinging them haphazardly at the painted lines on the ground. Soon he had come to the front of his car and began pounding the bonnet with twin fists, bringing them down simultaneously and shouting furious incoherent words as he did so. Everyone gazed at him, too stunned by the display to do anything to stop it. After a moment he swapped his fists for his head. Blood flung up every time he slung his head back, staining the white face-paint, the car and the unfortunate clowns and policemen behind him.

'This is enough,' Batman snarled in his gravelly tone. He marched purposefully over to The Joker, who in his moment of extreme insanity seemed unaware of the entire world around him. His face was completely marred with his own blood. Batman grabbed a handful of oily hair at the back of his head and threw him bodily over the bonnet of the car, pinning him down with one large hand wrapped around his neck and one fisted at the lapel of the purple coat. The Joker looked stunned for a moment, blinking through eyefuls of blood before spitting a mouthful of it into The Batman's eyes.

Batman growled and his grip tightened around the neck in his hand. The Joker let out a guttural choke, blood bubbling out of the corner of his mouth. He licked it away.

'_What's going on?'_

The Joker bared his teeth at Batman but did not answer the roughly growled question. He received an almighty backhand. Batman half expected him to explode into a fit of manic laughter as he had done on the receiving end of his rage many times before, but he seemed unnervingly resigned. Batman asked him once more.

'I've been here before,' he said vaguely, as though he was speaking to himself as he remembered old memories. He coughed another mouthful of thick blood over himself, grimacing.

'You've been to London before? Do you have connections here? Targets?' He slammed The Joker into the car and further tightened his crushing hold around his neck. '_Tell me!'_

'Not… London…!' he managed to choke out. Batman faltered for a moment, wondering how The Joker managed to come to the conclusion that they were not in London, despite the famous landmarks looming over the river nearby.

'What do you mean?' he hissed, inches from The Joker's bloody face. The Joker snarled, wriggling in Batman's grasp.

'Looks like… London,' he ground out from behind yellow, clenched teeth, struggling to speak with the hand around his neck. 'Not really London… Not real…'

'You're lying–'

'I AM NOT–' he suddenly screamed, his face twisted and almost wounded '–LYING!' With that he lunged upwards and sank his teeth into the soft flesh of Batman's cheek and bit hard. Batman howled and staggered backwards. Gordon leapt forward but before he could reach the pair Batman had landed a heavy punch into The Joker's stomach, winding him before flinging him across the road where he landed in a bundle, crumpled like a stringless puppet. He didn't spring back up immediately as everyone expected him to, but instead he slowly pushed himself up as if he was really feeling the pain that so many had witnessed him relishing and giggling at during previous encounters. He did not rise to his feet but chose to stay on his knees, leaning back to sit on his heels. His entire fanatical, bouncing, unhinged demeanor seemed completely deflated. Gordon's men shifted nervously, uncomfortable to be witnessing these human things in such a beastly man when everyone was quite content to assume that he was no more than a monster that had sprung up from the filthy bogs of foreign lands, fully formed and intent on wickedness from the very beginning.

'Sir–' one of Gordon's men spoke up, his voice a little reedy. 'I – that is – I mean, we've been here for about twenty minutes… it's rush hour. We're the only people here.' Everyone including Batman and the three clowns turned to him. They blinked and all turned to the face of Big Ben. It was 6.25pm.

As Rachael edged towards him, away from the van which The Joker had slumped quite close to, Batman stared hard down either end of Westminster Bridge, frowning. London was notorious for its terrible traffic, and here he and the others were in the middle of rush hour and not a single car had passed them or was approaching them from either end. He spied a red double-decker bus towards the very end of the bridge near the Palace of Westminster but it remained motionless and it seemed to be empty.

A metallic clattering caught his attention. Once more every gun and Batman's stony glare were on The Joker. He had risen to his feet undetected and it seemed that he had been stalking around as they wondered about the lack of traffic, gathering all of the knives that he had thrown to the ground during his fit. He noticed their attention and nonchalantly explained that he was definitely going to need them later.

'Why?' spluttered one of the policemen. 'So you can st-st-_stab_ us all later and run off with your - your _clowns?'_

The Joker became still and stared hard at the man who had blurted out at him. His creased face bore an unfathomable expression, his once white painted skin, now completely red with blood, obscured his look even further. He wagged his little potato peeler at the man in a condescending manner and six fingers hovered desperately around the triggers of six guns.

'No,' he said slowly, a patronizing edge to his voice. 'Because…' His voice drifted off and he moved to the edge of the bridge and looked out over the Thames. He ignored the guns.

For a moment The Joker appeared to be staring at nothing. From where Rachael was standing she could see his profile. She gazed in wonder at the slackness in his usually furrowed brow and the wistful puckering of his blemished lips. The expression departed as swiftly as it had arrived to be replaced by the usual frown and curl of disdain at the corners of his ruined mouth. As he turned to face the men again he caught Rachael's eye and winked. She shuddered and quickly averted her gaze. Batman made a jerky motion as though he was either going to rush over to her or over to The Joker to punch him, but she couldn't be sure.

The Joker spoke in his thin, calculating voice.

'This is a delicate, dangerous situation. We are no longer in Gotham, gentlemen – this is the end of the world.'

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well I dunno. I always imagine in my head how The Joker would act in really weird situations, like Rage ridden London or an Alien infested spaceship… lost at sea or in the Sahara. We don't really get to see what truly frightens him in Dark Knight. His apprehensions are subtle in the film. I like the idea of putting him somewhere that he can't handle.

I really hope this was okay, feedback is most welcome. I'd like to continue but I need to know what you think!! Thanks :)


	2. Where Is Tobias?

**Author's Note:** This is Joker/Batman/Rachael/Gordon-centric fic. These are the main characters, not the pairings haha.

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim.

**Warnings:** Swearing and violence.

**Summary:** _"This is a delicate, dangerous situation. We are no longer in Gotham, gentlemen – this is the end of the world." The Joker's web of insanity is spun by many spiders and the alternate world that he and his foes find themselves in is just one of them. AU_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Where Is Tobias?**

Gordon stared hard at The Joker. A little ice cube was making its chilly, slippery way through his chest, finally getting stuck in his heart. The silence was eerie until Rachael spoke in a wavering voice.

'Wh-what to you mean?'

The Joker glared, his frown menacingly accented by the blood dribbling down his face. His black eye-sockets were running down his cheeks like tar.

'I mean,' he said slowly with a strange tolerance, 'that this is, or may as well be, the end of the world.' His face split in half as he smiled mockingly at her. Gordon startled as Batman barked, _'Explain!'_

The Joker turned to Batman, clutching his potato peeler hard. An expression of complete restraint was on his bloodied face, but he didn't seem to be holding it well; his teeth were bared and his eyes were wide and icy.

'I have,' he snapped viciously, his tone hung low in growls. 'I have been here before, Batty. It is just like London, except it is not.' He swung his little blade widely to emphasise his words. 'The whole fucking country is the same. For all I know this entire… _world _– could be an exact copy.' He passed up and down the white lines in the middle of the road, wagging the blade and shaking his head. He seemed disturbingly anxious, which unsettled Gordon greatly. The words spoken by The Joker made no sense and he doubted anyone else was making sense of the twaddle either.

'Again and again!' The Joker screeched. Whatever he referred to remained unknown to the rest of the company. He twirled suddenly and fixed everyone with a piercing gaze. 'I don't care what everybody else does. _I–'_ he said, gesturing to himself with the point of his peeler, '–am going to find shelter before dark. I do not expect _you _to help _me,' _he snarled, then jabbing the potato peeler at Gordon, Batman, Rachael and the policemen. 'And don't expect me to help you, but there are two things to remember in this situation. One, you do not go anywhere alone unless you are forced to do so. Two, you do not travel at night unless you are forced to do so. Actually, there are three rules,' he gushed, now incredibly edgy. 'You see an Infected, you either run or you kill it, or you will be killed or infected. Fairly much the same thing.'

A chorus of protests from everyone including The Joker's own clowns rang across the bridge, clear panic in every voice. Through the din Batman shouted clearly.

'Why are you telling us this? What are you talking about? _What is the Infected?'_

After his monologue The Joker had bowed with sarcastic flair and began stalking along the white lines towards the centre of London, stepping over newspapers and plastic bags that were tumbling over the place, picking his way over the spilt produce of a fallen souvenir stand. He turned around as he walked, moving away in a backwards gait.

'I'm more worried about you, Batty,' he called, his voice high and contemptuous. 'If _you _get infected… if it's you… well, let's just say you'd be damned tough to beat down in that costume.'

He turned and continued his path, swaggering ridiculously, still mocking them with his back turned. Everyone was too stunned and confused to stop him. The clowns struggled and bounded after him. No effort was made to stop them either.

* * *

Gordon led the party along the road, staying fixed to the white lines in the centre, cautious eyes darting to every dark threshold they passed. He was flanked by two of his men, Rachael trailed behind him with the three other officers bring up the rear. Batman, silent and dark as ever, stalked by himself along the other side of the street. Rubbish littered the ground, everything from the contents of over-turned bins to suitcases, an explosion of hastily packed clothes lying on the tarmac. Broken glass and blood, huge wads of money – Gordon was astounded. He stooped and gathered a handful of purple and red notes, the numbers twenty and fifty in the corners. As he stared he noticed that his hand was shaking violently. A shuddering gasp rippled through him and he dropped the money, clenching his fist.

'I don't understand…'

Suddenly Batman was looming at his side.

'Nor do I,' he whispered hoarsely. 'We should find The Joker; he seems to understand the situation.'

Gordon's men muttered; they did not like the proposition. Batman rounded upon them, sending his cloak dancing up about him.

'What do you propose?' The Batman spoke with a brutal, gravelly edge to his voice. Rachael wrapped her arms around herself. Bruce was panicking, though no one else knew it. 'What do you expect us to do? Be thankful there is someone here who at least knows what is happening, even if it is The Joker.'

A grave silence followed, save for the light rustling of papers and things on the ground. Not even London's pigeons were calling. A sudden, terrible shout broke their dismal reverie. In a flash Batman and Gordon were darting across the road to the source of the noise, which had come from nearby. Rachael panicked as the five police men followed, leaving her alone in the street listening to the commotion. She hesitated for a moment and ran after them, her office heels clicking madly over the road.

When she rounded the corner and confronted the scene she shrieked. One of The Joker's clowns was engaged in a frenzied scuffle with a strange man, both rolling over each other on the heavily littered floor, screaming like beasts. Gordon and his men had their guns trained upon the pair but seemed reluctant to shoot, perhaps not even sure whether they should shoot the stranger, the clown or both of them. Batman swept over but before he could even get close enough to grab them and pull them apart The Joker arrived, having run from somewhere close by at breakneck speed brandishing a metal pole. With a terrible growl and beat down upon the stranger, gnashing his teeth and spitting all over the place, relentlessly bringing his weapon down upon the strange man, who all the while had been squealing and howling like a mad boar. Bones snapped and crunched under the attack, The Joker had broken his legs and an arm.

'STOP!' Gordon shouted. 'STOP, I _WILL _SHOOT!'

The Joker ignored him, maybe didn't even hear him, and continued to assault the man. Over and over again the pole flipped up and fell down like a fearsome arm of lightning. A few more blows and the stranger's head was completely stoved in, plastered all over the tarmac like a bloodied, bone-speckled pancake. Rachael was spluttering behind Gordon's men who were all astonished by the sight before them. A sickening splat was heard as she vomited.

With a deep intake of breath The Joker straightened and then sighed; head tilted back and eyes closed. He looked no more than a man who might have just completed his session of Yoga Pilates, relaxed and relieved. He pulled his head back up and stepped languidly away from the mangled pulp at his feet. Behind him his clown had clambered to his feet, fussing over a wound on his arm, trying to brush the heavy flow of blood away with his hand. Slowly and menacingly The Joker turned to him as though greatly irked by the fuss. He was eyeing the clown's arm.

'What's that?' he asked, far too calmly.

The clown looked up. His mask was askew and half a frightened face was visible, a pale, sickly shimmer of flesh. 'He – he bit me…'

'He bit you?'

'Yes, I –'

But his words were cut short. The Joker fell upon him with unnatural speed and ferocity, beating him to the floor as he had with the stranger. His chokes and screams sounded like a nightmare as they bounced off the silent walls of central London. He too was reduced to a faceless pulp, smeared across the road, arms akimbo either side of his smashed head with his fingers splayed like claws in his death.

The Joker backed away from the two bodies he had destroyed, breathing heavily. There was no twisted glee, not a shadow of a grin or any laughter as would be expected of him. He seemed dazed, though not nearly as much as his company. Even The Batman had to stand in silence for several moments before he could speak again.

_'What is going on?'_ he demanded in a ghostlike whisper.

The Joker glared at The Batman, his face an indecipherable thing once more. He loosely gestured at the dead stranger with his pole.

'He was infected, so I had to kill him.'

Batman's mouth was a thin line of impatience. He tilted his head, wordlessly asking for a better explanation. His eyes darted to the body of the clown then back to The Joker.

'And he got infected when he was bitten. So I had to kill him too.'

There was a pause. Gordon shifted, distressed to say the least. His gun was still pointing at The Joker but his grasp shook violently. Batman spoke again.

'What is the infection? How have you come to be in this place before?'

The Joker snarled, shaking his head as he turned to march away, his head dipped and the pole held firmly by his side. Batman stared after him, seething beneath his mask.

'Joker!' he snapped. 'Get back here!' He may as well have ordered a brick to fetch for him. The tenacity of The Joker was one of the paramount problems when dealing with him. He listened to no one and was a law unto himself. Batman was sure that the lunatic would break the law of gravity if only he could. He turned to his company, though spoke to Gordon more than anyone.

'We will follow him.' His eyes flickered over to Rachael. Her face was ashen and her lip trembled. He tried his best to reassure her with his eyes, but he doubted whether she would realise it when half his face was covered. He turned and ran down the street after The Joker, who himself had broken into a run, with Gordon, the men and Rachael following behind as closely as they could.

* * *

The Joker seemed to know exactly where he was going. He darted along main roads, slipped up side streets and snaked through alleys that would have been easily missed by anyone who was less than local. He blasted through the doors of a shopping centre and tore like a wildcat down some stationary escalators. He practically flew and Batman had to wonder whether he even realised he was being followed. Soon The Joker nearly skidded head over heels as he came to a stop in front of a small shop, little more than a newsagent, flung the night grate up and darted inside. He turned and was about to pull the grate down again when Batman lunged outwards and stopped him with a strong arm.

'What are you doing?' he hissed, infuriated more than ever by the blackened eyes and green hair hovering before him.

'Shelter!' The Joker hissed. 'And _you're _not sharing with _me!'_

'We're going to stick to you whether you like it or not,' Batman snarled, his arm darted outwards and he struck The Joker hard in the chest, sending him flying backwards into the wall of magazines and newspapers. The Joker glared up at him with absolute loathing.

'And whether _you _like it or not,' he growled.

Gordon arrived next with his men; one of them had Rachael leaning heavily upon his arm. She collapsed as soon as she passed over the threshold, hunched over on a pile of magazines that The Joker had dislodged when he was flung into them. She was severely shocked. She lifted her head and glanced around with blurry eyes that watered. She locked eyes with The Joker who was staring intently at her. There was a pause, his face split into an awful grin and he winked at her. She choked and scrambled to her feet, diving behind Gordon and Batman. The Joker chuckled, shifting around on his nest of papers.

* * *

It was cramped in the tiny shop and it had quickly grown hot and stuffy with all the bodies packed into it. The Joker had obstinately refused to move from his paper nest which was right in the middle of the floor and no one wanted to stand or sit very close to him, a difficult thing to do in such a minute amount of space. Rachael had been allocated a spot on the counter where she sat shivering. Gordon sat next to her but there was no more space so his men settled with leaning against the shop front or slouching on the floor. Batman loomed in the farthest corner, which was only really a few feet away from everyone else. He turned his attention to a small side door, a store room he supposed. The Joker caught sight of his interest and gazed dully at him. Batman moved to try the door. It was locked, so he prepared himself to smash it down. The Joker clucked his tongue.

'Wouldn't do that if I were you.'

BANG! The Batman kicked the door once.

'Bad idea, really…'

BANG! A second kick and the door was down; he stepped through it. He was met with the sight of what he thought was a small store room with red walls, but his spine stiffened when he realised what he was really seeing. A bloated corpse – he couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman – was slumped over a tiny table amongst stacks of boxes, obviously dead. The red painted walls were in fact blood painted; dark, stodgy lumps of brain plastered all about. A small firearm was on the floor underneath the limp hand.

Bruce's weariness bled through into Batman, how he wished he could discard his guise but he knew he couldn't. He hadn't thought of it before. How long would they be in this place? He had never worn his suit for more than forty-eight hours at the most. He had never tried to sleep in it; he didn't even know if he'd be able to answer the call of the nature in it, he'd never tried. He sighed and moved back into the shop space, wrinkling his nose at the stench of decay. The Joker laughed hoarsely.

'I told you that it was a bad idea. Now we've got to sit around and put up with that stink.'

Batman snarled and retreated into his corner, sorely agitated. He wanted to go to bed, he wanted Alfred to tell him how stupid he was for getting into such a mess, only to smile a little as he set down a tray of breakfast. His eyes wandered over to Rachael. He wanted to sit next to her and comfort her, but Batman wasn't allowed to do that, for the sake of his image and for the sake of Rachael's safety. If The Joker realised there was even the slightest connection between them he would exploit it to whatever end.

He clenched his jaw and returned his gaze to the madman. How did he know what was going on? Why had he been to this place before, and how? Did he know there was a body in the storeroom?

'What's going on, Joker,' he said as calmly as he could. 'We need to know what's going on.'

There was no reply. The Joker stared resolutely forwards, nostrils flaring as he watched Rachael's shoes. Batman began to lose himself. He lunged upon The Joker and pressed him up against the magazine racks, his gloved hands fisted into the blood-soaked collars. The Joker's face was filthy. The blood that covered it was browning as it dried, smudging off in little flaky bits. His hair was as bad and his breath was even worse. Batman nearly gagged. He was bearing his teeth and shaking with rage.

_'WHAT – IS – GOING – ON?'_

For the first time since they had arrived in 'London' The Joker emitted a peel of his signature laughter. He was completely consumed by his cackling, losing his breath and gasping. He writhed in Batman's grip as a captured hagfish would, turning in on an apparent stitch in his side. He panted and began to answer, only to stammer and lose himself to his laughter again. This happened again and again; every time he tried to speak he broke into fits of giggles, which grew into raucous laughter. Batman quickly grew tired of this and ended it with an almighty backhand which sent The Joker crashing into the corner of the shop, crumpling against the wall and trying desperately to catch his breath, a wide grin splitting his face in half like a jagged chasm.

'I – I –' he stuttered. 'I – there's nothing here, _hahahaha!'_

_'What do you mean?'_

'There's _nothing!_ The c-country has been evacuated, _haaa!_ It's a v-virus –'

Gordon suddenly spoke. 'A virus? What kind of virus?'

The Joker seemed to sober up a little, but the laughter continued to bubble softly through his chest. 'It's the Rage virus – something in the blood… and saliva… hahaha–'

'Rage virus? So the Government evacuated the country because of this? What are they doing now, where's the Prime Minister?'

The Joker suddenly became serious. 'There is no Government,' he growled.

'Of course there's a Government!' one of Gordon's men said. 'There's always a Government! In a bunker or on a jet somewhere –'

'There is _no Government,' _The Joker repeated. 'There's nothing. No police. No army. There's no electricity and no water.' He shifted in his corner, cracking some discomfort from his neck. 'There's nothing to do except survive until we can get out.'

'And how _do _we get out?'

The Joker looked up at Batman, that loathing back on his grimy face. He coughed and shifted again. 'I don't rightly know,' he said conversationally. 'It could be a time thing.' He shrugged and made himself comfortable. 'Could be a task thing. I don't know how to get out. It just happens.'

No one could speak. A soft voice broke the silence.

'How – where did it come from? What is it?'

All faces turned to Rachael whose eyes were wide and frightened. She had experienced mass lunacy before, remembering the night that Dr Crane had abducted her and revealed how he had been releasing the Fear Toxin into the waters of Gotham. The months of inoculation after that had been turmoil, so many thousands of people having to be caught and injected. The Joker regarded her with a hard face.

'I don't know,' he said simply. 'I only ever arrive after the initial… madness.'

Rachael's head flopped forward, her hair fell over her face. The Joker continued to stare at her, making Batman nervous. He longed to comfort Rachael and to cast The Joker out to oblivion, but his knowledge of the current situation was vital. He was loath to admit it but they all needed The Joker. He would just have to keep the mad dog on a long catchpole.

'Where's Tobias?' Gordon asked. Every face but those of Batman and The Joker, who were locked in each others fierce and hateful gazes, turned this way and that. It only took a few seconds to realise that Tobias, one of Gordon's men, was not in the shop. Another of the men stammered, he was suddenly pale.

'He – he was right behind me…' Everyone was silent as they listened to his frightened voice. 'When we were running here… he was at the back, right behind me…'

Subconsciously everyone turned to gaze out of the shop window through the night grate, pondering the fate of Tobias. Several long minutes passed before Batman turned back to The Joker.

'Where are the other two clowns?'

The Joker shrugged. 'They ran off when the Infected chased us. They're probably infected now, and your Tobias will be too. Or dead, perhaps. Infected… dead… same thing.'

The ugly silence returned.

'It will be a long night,' The Joker said, linking his fingers together and pillowing them behind his head against the wall. 'The first night is always really long. And we can't stay here. We'll move on in the morning.'

Batman grimaced, detesting the smugness in The Joker's voice – he certainly knew he had the upper hand. He dread to think what plots the beast would invent with such an advantage. Fighting back a sigh and an irresistible urge to gently wrap and arm around Rachael, he leant against the window behind him. He knew that he couldn't allow himself to fall asleep, and he knew The Joker was spot on – the night was going to be very long indeed

* * *

**Author's Note:** Took a while. This is also being posted over at Live Journal, search for a community called my(underscore)snare which is the archive for this fic and my username is bramblyhuck. At the community jack(underscore)tanner you will also find the beginnings of another TDK Joker fic which I will not be posting here.


	3. Abide With Me

**Author's Note:** This is a Joker/Batman/Rachael/Gordon-centric fic. These are the main characters, not the pairings haha.

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim.

**Warnings:** Swearing and violence.

**Summary:** _"This is a delicate, dangerous situation. We are no longer in Gotham, gentlemen – this is the end of the world." The Joker's web of insanity is spun by many spiders and the alternate world that he and his foes find themselves in is just one of them. AU_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Abide With Me**

The Joker hadn't woken anyone with a spoken word or a tap on the shoulder when he left in the morning, though Bruce suspected that he had purposefully made a lot of noise with the night grate to alert everyone to his departure. Despite his previous conviction Bruce had fallen asleep in his corner, sliding down the wall in his slumber into an awkward crouch which had given him all sorts of aches to deal with now that a cold morning was creeping over them. He stood, stretched and cracked his bones, grousing as he cast a black smudged eye over the others in the small shop. Rachael had fallen asleep behind the counter with Gordon's coat draped over her whilst Gordon had settled himself beside his four remaining men, some with their backs up against the wall of sweet racks and the rest curled on the floor. As one of the men stirred a box of Mars Bars toppled over his head.

'We're leaving – now.'

Everyone had woken at the sound of the harsh voice; they all stared at The Batman.

'Now?' said Gordon in a voice cracked from tiredness.

'Yes, now. The Joker has left. I hardly think he'll wait for us if we lose him.'

There was an unbalanced scrabbling as everyone struggled onto cold, stiff feet. Bruce noticed that Rachael looked absolutely awful, her eyes were dark and puffy and she grimaced as she shifted her weight onto her feet; her office heels were obviously causing her pain. Again Bruce felt a yearning to embrace her, but he was not Bruce today, nor would he be for a fair while so it seemed. He was Batman and Batman was not allowed to show very many feelings at all. It made him wonder, what with Batman serving as a flesh symbol; could he really afford to delve into whatever capacity for human nature he may have?

He shook his head and moved from the shop, heading in the same direction that he'd seen The Joker take and there he was, his purple coat a sharp jab of brightness in the dull shopping centre, moving edgily up one of the static escalators, though not entirely fast enough as to look as if he was trying to lose his 'company'.

_Surely he's not waiting for us?_ Bruce pondered with distaste. He reached the bottom of the dead stairs just as The Joker disappeared from view. He had distinctly stated last night that _'we can't stay here – we'll move on in the morning.'_ He said 'we'. Will he tolerate us?

Bruce grunted, begrudged to remember that he could not lead the small party in this… alternate world; he had to rely on The Joker who seemed to know exactly what was going on regardless of his reluctance to give them as much information as they wanted.

He sighed as the others drew up behind him and they headed after The Joker feeling as blind as though they were wandering aimlessly through deep, foreign caves.

* * *

'Argyle Road?'

They had all followed The Joker wordlessly, perhaps terrified that if they even whispered the Infected would spring from the road drains and cracks in the walls and attack them, but now they stood still in the middle of a road, eyeing their guide with apprehension. He stood like a statue on the curb. He didn't move for several moments and the party quickly became restless.

'Is there a safe house here?' Gordon asked, clearly agitated and still very tired.

The Joker turned slowly to look over his shoulder, tapping his metal pole against the side of his thigh distractedly. There was an odd disdain upon his face that Bruce had never seen before, not an inkling of mischievousness or jest. When he spoke his voice was arctic.

'There isn't a single safe house anywhere.'

He turned and stalked along the road, each side a row of old terraced houses with varying wall styles, shabby patios and weed-choked plant troughs. He pushed open a creaky iron gate on a house marked as number thirty-five, struggling against an overgrowing creeper that had woven itself through the bars. Bruce watched, vaguely fascinated as The Joker stooped and lifted up a garish gnome, brushing around in the dirt underneath it for a second. He found what he was a looking for - a key. With slowness and care he opened the blue front door, pushing cautiously against it as if he thought there might be someone standing immediately on the other side. Bruce watched him grow tense, gripping the metal pole held at his side tightly.

'There must be someone inside,' Bruce muttered to Gordon. 'He's been here before; he knows what is going to happen –'

'The cadaver in the store…'

'Exactly.'

Then The Joker made a sudden movement, hitting against the wooden door. Gordon and his men drew their guns, prepared for the worst, wholly expecting a horde of Infected to come pouring from the threshold of the small house, though instead of backing away from the door to counter this, The Joker dived into the darkness of the house. One of the men yelped in confusion.

'_What's he doing?'_ Gordon cried, thoroughly vexed. Bruce snarled and vaulted over the broken front wall and thundered into the house, shouting angrily.

'JOKER!'

He heard rummaging and clanking in a room at the end of the small corridor, mingled with hisses and curses. He shifted to follow the noise but was almost bowled over as The Joker came crashing through the door, not caring that he scratched the walls with the end of his pipe that he was brandishing, nor that he nearly ran straight into Bruce's fist as he leapt onto the staircase.

'_Joker! What are you doing?'_

The Joker did not answer as he crashed his way up the turning staircase. Bruce cursed violently, feeling uneasy at The Joker's behavior, after all he did know what was going to happen didn't he? Was something in this house not quite as he remembered from previous visits to this world?

'Joker?' The footfalls from the upper floor had died away, filling the rest of the house with silence save for Bruce's heavy, ragged breathing. A shuffle to his left made him turn sharply but it was only a tentative Gordon, standing lightly on the doorstep. Over his shoulder Bruce could see the men and Rachael, huddling and cautious beside the wall. Resisting a heavy sigh he turned and trod partway up the staircase, twiddling a switch on the side of his headpiece to amplify audio feedback. He only heard the breathing of The Joker; no one else was here except for them. He called behind him in his husky disguised voice.

'There's no Infected, it's safe.'

Gordon, the men and Rachael gladly packed into the house, shutting the door behind them and settling in the cramped living room, pulling the curtains shut. Bruce gestured for them to remain where they were as he continued the rest of the way up the staircase, listening carefully. There were only three doors on the upper floor, and although each door was closed there was the unmistakable stench of decay hanging thickly in the air. Listening intently Bruce managed to locate The Joker through a door opposite the top of the stairs. As silently as he could in his heavy suit he advanced across the landing, pushed the door handle down and sidled into the room.

What he saw did not deal him a jarring shock so much as it dealt him an uncomfortable dose of confusion. It was a bedroom, no doubt that of an adult judging by the contents. Upon the small double bed were the bodies of two people, a fairly young looking woman and a little girl, both wan-skinned in death, bloated and tainted faintly blue by the deep network of stilled veins. At the foot of the bed, his muzzle buried into the back of his purple sleeve, stood The Joker, as motionless as the death he gazed upon. Bruce couldn't tell whether or not The Joker had even noticed him entering the room, so mysteriously enraptured he was by the bodies on the bed. After what felt like too much of a long time, Bruce spoke.

'Do you know them?'

The Joker appeared to startle a little, glaring at The Batman from behind his sleeve. He frowned and nodded. Encouraged by the subtle compliance Bruce enquired further, though stayed his distance.

'Are they meant to be alive?'

The Joker didn't acknowledge this question with an answer and instead dropped his sleeve from his face and stepped around the side of the bed, leaning over to pluck something from the hand of the woman, who Bruce assumed must be the mother or perhaps the older sister of the small girl. He could not see what the object was, though he suspected that it must be a picture or a letter, for the still blood-marred face of The Joker was creased as he stared at it, his eyes darting over it as though reading something or inspecting every inch of a photograph. As though woken from a reverie he inhaled suddenly and deftly slipped the item into one of the small pockets in his green waistcoat. His dark eyes locked upon The Batman, standing across from him on the other side of the bed.

'We'll stay here tonight, and then move on tomorrow.'

'Move on again?'

'Yes,' he growled stiffly in an uncharacteristically low tone. 'The Infected will come. It's more difficult to do this with all of you following me around.'

Bruce snarled.

'How are we meant to know what to do?'

The Joker slammed his pole against the bedstead furiously, staring with that pure disdain which Bruce hadn't seen before they arrived in this London.

'_As if anybody else did?'_

As he spat his words– perhaps subconsciously – he gestured slightly in the direction of the dead bodies. Bruce wondered if he realised he had done this, realised that he was plainly staring at them as he marched around the bed and out of the door. Before he completely left the room he turned back and spoke once more.

'I'm sleeping up here.'

Bruce bit the insides of his cheeks until they bled as he watched the purple clown slip through another door, clicking it shut behind him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry this is so short. Chapter FOUR is already written, but I'm going to be mean and immature and hold it at ransom in exchange for 10 REVIEWS. Come on kids, you can do it!


	4. By Candlelight

**Author's Note:** I decided to change the summary.

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim.

**Warnings:** Swearing and violence.

**Sum****mary:** _A sane man may see things that will make him insane, but a man who is already insane who sees the same things... perhaps they will make him sane once more. AU._

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**By Candlelight**

Rachael was once again allowed to sleep in pride of place in the living room, curled up on the threadbare sofa whilst Gordon and his men slept on cushions across the small floor space. As they had all settled down she had kicked her office heels off, discovering numerous evil looking blisters all over the knuckles of her toes and over the backs of her heels. She groused at this inwardly but did not complain to the others, however Gordon noticed and advised her not to pop them. She had to admit, it was rather hard to resist.

Later Rachael woke with a jolt in the middle of the night. Thankful though she was for being allowed to sleep on the most comfortable piece of furniture available she was finding it difficult to sleep soundly with the large living room window bearing down upon her from the wall behind the sofa. She felt vulnerable and her slumber had been filled with disjointed nightmare visions of the Infected, their faces distorted by Rage and their eyes glowing with an ugly orange in the dark. As they began to tear at her body they spewed forth from their twisted lips what seemed like seas of blood and dark, rust coloured bile, filling her own mouth, her nose and her eyes. She blinked up at the beast bearing down on her, squinting and spluttering through the filth. Suddenly, with another jolt of horror more profound than before she realised she was staring into a warped white painted face with a raw, bleeding mouth so unnaturally large, grinning from the very edge of one cheek to the other. It gnashed its yellow teeth at her, its eyes wide and roving.

Suddenly Rachael was burning from the inside. A fire filled her gullet and before she could catch herself she was spilling her own infected blood and vomit. Coughing in agony she spat the last of it from her mouth. The Joker was still on top of her, pinning her down and grinning madly. Without warning his skin erupted into molten flames, dripping from smoldering cracks in his skin and burning through his clothes. Rachael screamed, kicking and writhing in an attempt to get away from him, even as the Rage Virus continued to burn inside her. The Joker laughed and one long arm disappeared behind him. Seemingly from nowhere he produced a frightening blade, shining with magnesium brightness and burning the backs of Rachael's eyes. She screamed louder and The Joker only laughed in response. He brought the blade down to her lips, cackling.

'_WHY – SO – SERIOUS?'_

He slashed his arm widely, nearly cleaving Rachael's face clean in two. It was at this moment she had woken herself, soaked in a cold sweat. She was shivering, frightened all the more by the big window behind the sofa. She gazed around at the other bodies in the room which was now filled with the musty stench of slumber. No one else had stirred.

As quietly as she could Rachael picked her way through the sleeping bodies and slipped into the small corridor, her bare, blistered feet pattering lightly on the uncarpeted floor. She had not had a real chance to speak to Bruce properly without giving anything away to the others or The Joker, and she knew that the nighttime, when everyone else was asleep, would be her best chance to speak to him. She could see at the end of the small corridor a dim light coming from underneath the door. Her heart leapt as she pitter-pattered towards the door, but as she neared it and stretched her hand out to push it open she felt a cold dread.

_What if it's not Bruce?_ She worried to herself. _What if… what if it's The Joker?_

Tentatively she tried to peer into the room through the crack in the door. She saw a shape hunched over the small kitchen table, several tea lights inside jam jars flickering before him. He was too large and dark to be The Joker, surely it was Bruce! With a sigh of relief she swung the door open, darting over and slinging her arms around the dark shape of her Batman. She startled him slightly, much to her delight. He jolted, his armoured elbow slipping off the tabletop.

'Rachael,' he mumbled thickly. 'I think… you woke me up –'

She laughed softly, enjoying this scant amount of time with Bruce and not Batman. She perched on a kitchen stool next to him, leaning on the table to get a better look at what parts of his face she could. It was hard to decipher an expression, but she could see the skin on his chin, now covered with a faint layer of stubble and the shimmer in his pale eyes dimming despite the warm flicker of the small candles.

'I think we're going to be here for a while,' Rachael murmured. Bruce nodded grimly.

'Amongst everything else, I'm not looking forward to spending however much time we'll be here in this goddamn suit.'

Rachael smiled weakly.

'Have you managed to get anything out of The Joker?'

Bruce pursed his lips. 'No,' he said. 'But I think that he can foresee some events… having been here before. He knew there was a dead body in that store. I think he also knew the people who lived here – their bodies are in the bedroom upstairs.'

At this Rachael gasped, visibly rather shocked.

'I wouldn't have… but now that you mention it, I can smell something horrid… Why did he bring us here if he knew they would be dead?'

Bruce shook his head. 'I think he was expecting them to be alive. He mentioned that "this is more difficult" with all of us following him around. He's been here a lot of times Rachael. You don't know the alleys of London like the back of your hand unless you've spent a lot of time here.'

'But he doesn't even know how to get out!' Rachael exclaimed. 'He said he didn't know how to get out, from here back to Gotham – if he's been here so many time before then how can he not have figured out how to leave?'

Bruce simply shrugged. 'He's a madman Rachael. Their brains don't run on the same tracks as everyone else. What patterns he sees in life… may not be seen by others, may not even exist. And what we see in life may seem like mere fabrications to a lunatic like him.'

Rachael shivered, curling her arms around herself. 'I don't like that we have to rely on him, Bruce,' she whispered. 'What if he tries to kill us? He's been trying to kill _you_ for months!'

'No,' Bruce said, shaking his helmeted head. 'He's been hired by the mob to unmask me. As long my identity remains a mystery to him… he'll not kill me. But we cannot risk him realising that there is anything between us. He'll kill you to get to me; he'll do anything to get my mask off. I'm already worried about Gordon, the link between us is well known. I'm frightened that just being in this place will force me to take the mask off myself.' He sounded a little desperate. 'Rachael, I don't think I can even take a piss in this thing!'

Rachael gaped at him, aghast, but then laughed. 'Bruce, you don't piss out of your head, you don't need to take your mask off for–'

Her face fell before she could finish her sentence, pure horror in her eyes. Panicking for the slightest of moments Bruce thought that the Infected had got into the house somehow and were sneaking upon them, but when he turned to look at the doorway his stomach dropped further than he thought it would have if the Infected were standing there.

Standing at the threshold of the door was The Joker.

He had washed the blood from his face and reapplied his war paint, though poorly so, as it seemed he had been unable to find any white. He had however smeared bright red lipstick over his mouth and scars and had blacked his eye sockets in with dark eye-pencils. Rachael felt strange to see the sallow human tinge of the skin on his un-painted face.

He was staring with evident suspicion upon his face at Rachael and The Batman, huddled over the small kitchen table together. His face was twisted with contempt.

'Looking rather cozy there,' he said coldly, drawing his words out in his high, sneering voice. He moved over to them with frightening speed, Bruce leapt to his feet but The Joker hadn't made an attack. He glared hard at the candles. 'I suggest you put these out immediately,' he hissed venomously, pointing with a long-nailed finger. _'I said put them out! Now!'_

Rachael scrabbled to blow the small tea lights out, but The Joker spoke once more.

'Too late.'

'What –'

An almighty _SMASH_ filled the room, a million shards of broken glass rained down over the kitchen. A terrible shriek ripped through the night air – the Infected had found them! Rachael screamed as the visions of her nightmare started to become real, two Infected men, one half naked and the other flailing around madly with a limp, already broken arm, were scrambling into through the window they had smashed. The noises they made were terrifying, the sounds of pigs to slaughter and apes fighting, mingled in together.

The Joker had his pole when he had come into the kitchen but in the flurry he had suddenly acquired a fierce machete.

'Where did you get that?' Bruce snarled over the squeals of the Infected, bringing his foot down on the neck of the one he had wrestled to the floor, snapping it cleanly.

'Upstairs!' was the bellowed reply. At that moment Gordon's men piled into the kitchen with their guns, shouting in confusion. Rachael had dived out of the way, shrinking in a corner, shrieking at the sight of the wild-eyed Infected hurtling around the small kitchen and the introduction of several loaded guns to the equation. In a flash the remaining Infected man had pinned one of Gordon's officers to the floor, tearing at him with his nails, trying his best to sink his teeth into the flesh of his victim, despite having two bullets shot at him, one in his arm and the other in his shoulder. The officer screeched, having run out of bullets. He smashed the empty gun against the side of the Infected man's head, but the wildness of the virus seemed to make him immune to pain.

Suddenly rusty, infected blood was splattering across the room, body parts falling to the floor. The Joker had come down upon the back of the Infected, hacking at him with his newfound weapon. He did not stop until the limbs and the head were completely severed from the torso, pale splintered bones poking out from the glistening flesh. In the darkness, with only the half moon shining through the window to illuminate the scene, the spilt blood looked entirely black.

The Joker rounded upon the fallen officer, who lay quaking upon the linoleum floor. He had wide, obvious bite marks across his face and a deep gash over his arm which he was fervently wiping at. Without a word The Joker sliced his machete through the air, just as Gordon bulldozed his way into the small room.

'NO!'

But he was too late; The Joker had chosen to terminate the bitten man, slicing off limbs and eventually the head. Gordon yelled, clutching the disheveled hair at his temples. In a flash he had his gun trained upon The Joker, who stared harshly at him, the dripping machete held limply at his side.

'He was infected!' he shouted in Gordon's face, spittle flying. 'You have between ten and twenty seconds to kill someone who has been infected, or he will Infect _you!'_

'_What do you care if we get infected?'_ Gordon screamed, his glasses slipping down his nose.

'I _don't!_ But if you become infected you will infect _me,_ and I plan on staying alive long enough to get back to Gotham! You cannot survive here unless you have the guts to kill someone when you _need_ to!'

'But – '

The Joker ignored him, turning instead to Rachael who had been completely showered with blood where she crouched in the corner. He towered over her, somehow much taller and broader than ever before. He snarled viciously, pointing at her with the machete. Bruce tensed visibly, his small throwing blades at the ready.

'Did any of that get in your mouth?' The Joker demanded. Rachael, still sobbing, shook her head. 'Did it get in your eyes?'

'N-no, no it –'

The Joker turned from her, grabbing the roll of kitchen paper from somewhere on the counter and flung it carelessly at her. He spoke callously.

'Get that cleaned off.'

He turned from her and began to ravage the cupboards and drawers, pulling tins and packets onto the counter, stuffing them into plastic bags which he easily located in the cupboard under the sink. The only sounds were the heavy breathing of Gordon, the rustling of the bags and Rachael sobbing as she wiped the blood off her skin.

The Joker had only managed to glean one full bag of still-edible things from the cupboards. Without a word he strode purposefully the back door, wrenching it open and disappearing into what was now a dull, early morning. Bruce moved to the doorsill, furious.

'Joker?' he called. 'Joker!' He turned to the rest, livid and aching to drag Rachael from the floor and wrap her up inside his gliding cape, eternally cocooned from the rest of the world and mad clowns it spawned. 'We have to follow him,' he growled.

'No!'

Gordon stood from where he had sunk to the floor against the wall. 'We're not following him, that-that _madman –'_

'We will follow him.'

There was no choice to be had as soon as The Batman had left them in the blood and limb littered kitchen. Their guide, The Joker, and their guard, The Batman had gone. Rachael was the first to follow. She slipped on the blood, skipping over the broken glass before lurching out of the door, tripping up the steps outside to the road and grazing her hand on the ugly, gravel-spattered wall. Gordon sighed, raking a clawed hand through his hair.

He left also with a shake of his head, his remaining three men trudging heavily behind him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** REVIEWS PLZ. I want 10 reviews for this chapter!! I haven't written the next part yet, so you've got plenty of time to make the numbers :3


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